


Inanity is Sanity (When You're Dealing With Remains)

by snapdragonpop007



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, M/M, One Shot, Romance, Will Graham Knows, and no i will not apologize for it, in that Will works for the FBI in a slightly diffrent way, yes I took my title from a psych song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:42:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23156518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snapdragonpop007/pseuds/snapdragonpop007
Summary: Will Graham is the Baltimore city coroner.Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper.One could argue that they know each other--intimately.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 26
Kudos: 708
Collections: Wendigo & Stag





	Inanity is Sanity (When You're Dealing With Remains)

Will did not like his job.

Will did not hate his job, either. 

Will Graham’s job was a thing that simply was. It was a correlation of his empathy, his two years in medical school before his drop out, his several years of being an active duty police officer and his distaste for being anywhere near a crime scene. It was easier to handle his empathy when he only had a body to look at. It was easier on his shoulder, forever suffering from the knife he took to it. He did not mind the smell and the sight of blood and death and other bodily liquids, and he did not mind handling the fine scalpels and picks that had replaced his gun as the tool of his trade.

Being a coroner was easy.

It was a simple routine to fall into, it was easy money, and it let Will Graham see so much more than what he had ever seen in crime scenes. 

“I’ve got a new one for you, Graham.” 

Jack Crawford came bursting into Will’s little basement room loudly and clumsily, knocking into Will’s counter and table and rattling his beakers and scalpels as he wheeled in a gurney with a black body bag firmly strapped down to it. 

There was a younger officer with him as well, looking around nervously as he trailed in after. 

Will gave him a smile. It was not a nice smile, and the officer flinched back and looked down at the white tiled floor. 

“Oh, lovely,” Will said. “I’ve been wondering what I was going to do with myself today.”

“It’s the Ripper.” Jack paid no mind to what Will said. He rarely did, if Will were honest.

Jack bustled about to unstrap the bag, snapping at the other officer to help him, _damnit, what do we pay you for?_ The younger officer scrambled to do so, shooting a fearful look at Will before looking down at the body bag. Will, who had been on the receiving end of Jack’s snappy comments more than once, should feel bad for the officer. 

He did not. 

All the new recruits Jack brought with him to see Will seemed to be frightened of the coroner's office, and more specifically the coroner himself. It was nice to know that Will still had his reputation, even if he had quit the more active duty side of law enforcement. 

Will winced as they roughly threw the bag onto the table. 

“Be gentle, Jack!” Will snapped it out and hurried over, fussing about and pushing Jack and the officer away. He was not afraid to be rough with Jack here. “I can’t do a proper autopsy if you jostle everything!” 

Jack at least had the grace to look guilty as he stepped back. 

“Now get out. I can’t work right if you’re hovering over me.”

Jack skwaked. “But, Will--!” 

“You have more important things to do than watch me dissect a body,” Will frowned. Jack was always more brutish when it was a Ripper victim, and Will was always more finicky when it was a Ripper victim. “Besides, I don’t think your new lap dog can stomach it.” 

He nodded over at the officer, who scowled. 

“I can--”

“Of course. We’ll go.” Jack cut the officer off. “Let us know when you’re done.”

Will hummed in agreement, giving his attention to the bag on his table and plucking a pair of gloves from the box sitting next to the head of the bag. He heard the door close as he slipped the latex on, and he spared it a quick glance to make sure Jack and the officer left before turning his attention back to the dead body on his table. 

He unzipped the bag, and felt the breath steal away from his lungs.

It was beautiful.

\--

Will did not always think of dead bodies in this way. 

Will used to be indifferent towards them. They were not nothing to him, but they were something close. They were work and money, a slab of meat on his table that he got to carve and inspect and ship off to the buyer. 

He still thought of most bodies in this way, but there was something about a Ripper victim that made Will feel _something_. 

He hummed a soft tune as he took in the neatly stitched cuts and wounds, running a finger along the largest one and tugging at the razor thin stitching. 

Will used to get these bodies still yawning and open. 

A small part of him thrilled at the idea of the Chesapeake Ripper stitching them up for him. 

“Good afternoon, Will.”

“Hannibal,” Will looked up, and Hannibal smiled at him from the doorway. “Did Jack send you down here to watch me?”

He picked up one of his scalpels, tapping the dull edge against his cheek as Hannibal crossed the room. Will had not seen him earlier in the day, but he still knew that Hannibal had lost his suit jacket--probably resting in Jack’s office--because he never went without one, leaving him in a pale yellow button up a hazy gray waistcoat. His sleeves were rolled up, most likely in preparation for when he would inevitably end up helping Will, and Will let himself stare at Hannibal’s arms before snapping his eyes back up to his face. 

“No, I came of my own accord today.” Hannibal’s smile was incredibly soft, nothing at all like the detailed brutality of the body lying on the table. 

Will did not know with complete certainty that Hannibal Lecter was the Chesapeake Ripper, but he had a very strong inkling towards it. 

And Will’s inklings had very rarely been wrong. 

“Well, don’t I feel special.” Will tapped the scalpel against his cheek one more time, then set it back on the table. It made a gentle ringing sound. “Sure you didn’t just come down here to relive your days at John Hopkins?” 

Hannibal let out a little laugh--one of his prim and proper ones that should sound obnoxious but didn’t. “I’m quite sure. I only ever come down here for you, dear Will.” 

Will ignored the little flutter of his heart and the way Hannibal was staring at him. 

“Jack said it was another Ripper victim.” Hannibal said.

Will hummed, tilting the head of the body back just enough to get it out of the way. He gripped the jaw between his fingers, placing them over the bruise that hadn’t yet settled, and squeezed open the mouth. A few teeth were missing. So was the tongue. 

“That's what it seems to be nowadays, doesn’t it?” Will pulled his hand back from the body's jaw. “Can you hand me my marker?” 

Hannibal did, letting his hand linger for a moment. 

His skin was warm, even through the latex of the glove, and Will shivered with it. 

“I’m surprised Jack didn’t have you at the scene,” Will continued. He uncapped the marker, wrinkling his nose as the sharp fumes of it hit him. He moved the marker away from his face quickly, sticking the cap between his teeth as he drew his guidelines on the flat chest of the body. 

“He tried to, but I was with a patient.” 

“Lucky for you.” Will said it around the plastic in his mouth. 

Another quiet laugh. Will didn’t enjoy Hannibal’s laughs nearly as much when it wasn’t just the two of them. “I suppose so--although it’s not so lucky for Jack, is it?” 

“He’ll get over it.” Will capped the marker and straightened up. 

His lines weren’t particularly straight, but Will didn’t need them to be. Once he sunk the scalpel in he would be fine. 

“I’d imagine you're going to be here for a while?”

“Hmm, yeah, probably.” Will looked at Hannibal as he switched his marker out for his scalpel. “Why?” 

“I’d like to invite you to dinner.” Hannibal said. He was smiling again, looking as Will with eyes that were entirely too soft. “You spend far too long down here, and someone should make sure you’re fed.”

“Well, as long as Mr. Ripper was kind to me,” Will set the tip of the scalpel against the body’s chest. It sank in like it was butter. “I’d _love_ to.”

Hannibal slipped his hand against Will’s back and pushed firmly for a moment before pulling back. “Oh, he was, dear Will.” 

Will grinned. 

—

Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter had only met because Jack made them meet. 

They kept seeing each other because after that first meeting Hannibal had gotten smitten and attached, and Will liked the attention of it. Normally he wouldn’t, but Hannibal made it feel different—more special and uplifting and warm. 

And Hannibal was the only one willing to stay in Will’s morgue for more than five minutes. 

Will had thought it strange at first--Hannibal was a psychiatrist who didn’t even properly work for the FBI and had only been called in to consult on the Ripper case because Will refused to do so. But then Will had looked at him, had learned he used to be a surgeon and that he was as eccentric as he was polite, and then he understood. 

Hannibal had come to visit him in the morgue often, bringing smiles and lunch and coffee and feelings that Will hadn’t expected but welcomed all the same. 

Will thought of this as he watched Hannibal light the fire in his study. 

He took a careful sip from his wine as the fire sparked to life, curling his legs up in the chair and wondering if the liver they ate tonight came from the body sitting in his morgue. 

Hannibal looked back at Will and gave him a look over, pausing momentarily on his legs before jumping back to his eyes. “Would you like a blanket, Will?”

Will hummed. “Or, you could come sit with me.”

Hannibal blinked, but rose to his feet and drifted over to the chair. Will scooted over to give Hannibal space to sit, then draped his legs over Hannibal’s and looped his arm around Hannibal’s shoulders. Hannibal’s own arms hooked around Will’s waist to keep him steady, and Will hummed happily and took another sip from his wine. 

“Whose liver did we eat tonight?” he asked. 

Hannibal’s hold on him tightened. “My tailor’s.”

Will swallowed more wine. It was a bitter wine, but it tasted sweet with words. “Is that the body on my table?”

“Yes.” 

And just like that it was over.

Will knew, Hannibal knew that Will knew, and they both knew that Will wasn't going to do a damn thing about it. 

\--

Jack brought another body to Will’s table a few days later, and when Will opened the chest he found the lungs full of sweet williams.

**Author's Note:**

> my university is going online for the rest of the semester, so with nothing to do except waste away in my loneliness and pet my cat I present to you an idea I got from a dumb 'whose line is it anyway?' skit 
> 
> I do, actually, like this concept and I might write a longer fic, but for now have this


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